


They Met Me In the Day of Success

by Asami_T



Series: Asami's One-Shots [10]
Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Acting, Crossdressing, F/F, F/M, Onnagata, Past Abuse, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, Theatre, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asami_T/pseuds/Asami_T
Summary: Companion piece to A Different Dojo. A flashback to 1969, following one of our protagonists in their youth. Recommended to read this after _CHAPTER 8_.





	They Met Me In the Day of Success

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read this unless you've already read Chapter 8 of A Different Dojo! It won't make sense otherwise! Thanks y'all!

**1969**

The life of a martial artist is fraught with perils. The thunderstorm of emotion boiling deep in my skin can be set aside just a little while longer. With each dab of the ceramic white makeup across my face, the persona begins to set in. I can stop being me, and be _her_ for just a little bit of time.

Each step of being an onnagata requires the utmost in discipline. To become the woman you truly aren’t. To stand before the sea of people and create the illusion that you are a woman of culture, of regality.

The makeup hides the sleepless nights, the shadows in my eyes. The wig hides the slow, methodical recession of my hairline, as the stress and anxiety eat me alive. For a night, I can pretend that this is not the life I live.

 _Look at the lonely people,_ the radio croons quietly, another English track to reflect the increasing presence of foreign culture in a land long held to the tradition of it’s past. I permit myself a small smile. Neither of the old men liked those things, they still held to _State Shinto_ and the idea that our destiny lay to subjugate all others.

But in their anger, their grief for what they lost in their blind greed, they turned their guns of hate upon another. The silken kimono and royal garb as I took on the persona hid the deep scars on my wrists and arms. The attempts to escape the nightmare hidden, laying in repose.

As I finish, I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t describe well the feeling. It is like seeing a long lost twin sister. I can’t help but smile. She’s so beautiful, so radiant, she seems free of all the horrors I endured. I touch the cool glass mirror and feel a twang of regret.

Perhaps things were beginning to go my way.

Rising from my seat in front of the vanity, I take the first clumsy steps in many years in the heeled sandals that came traditional with the role I took on. The theatre was forward thinking. Gone were the traditional plays of my youth… no, adaptations of classic Western plays were a necessity.

I waited quietly on the wings as the actors performed their craft. To be home at last, it felt like I had been sleeping forever, and was now on the tempest of being awake once more. The stage director approaches me from nowhere, perhaps close by as I am lost in my own reverie, and presses a sheet of paper into my hand. My time is coming, to reclaim what was once mine.

The actors on stage depart, and there is a beat. _It’s time to shine._

I step forward, first timidly, but the old feelings of pride and courage surge back, filling me with feelings I’d not felt in years. Mother lingers behind my shoulder, whispering words of wisdom and encouragement for me to take the stage and control it with the willpower I possess.

 _A martial artist’s life is fraught with perils._ Yes. That is true, and it is one of the only lessons the Old Man taught me that I will remember well.

But all life is a stage, and we are all players on that stage.

A lesson I learned first, before those dark days. As the lights hone in on me, and illuminate my porcelain-coloured skin in their warm embrace, I take a brief moment to glance out towards the captive audience.

I can see him in the crowd, standing with bright eyes, grinning ear to ear. Beside him is his betrothed, a woman I could call a friend too. Partners in crime, and perhaps the ones who would have been my partner of life if the persona I take on was true and in real flesh. Such a pity, that such things will never be.

But these emotions shall be the engine for which I reclaim myself. The neutral expression on my face does not break or waver, and I begin my monologue.

“ _They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished._ ” I recited, fulfilling the long absent role of an actor of my experience had. The role of a woman of knowledge, strength and determination was my home, and it was here that I could weave my craft like no man before me performing in the honored tradition of onnagata.

But plays are not infinite. They must end, just as the sun must set. As the final scene ended, and we took our curtain call, I returned to the shadowed backstage. However, perhaps tonight was different. A woman, very clearly embracing an alternative lifestyle, stood near the dressing room door. She brightened up as I came into view and she shyly approached me.

“Um, wonderful job tonight. You were great. Uhh… jeez, I’m bad at this. But when I was in the crowd, and I saw you take the stage, I knew I had ta have the honor of takin’ you out.”

“Oh my,” I murmured, feeling heat rising to my cheeks, hidden beneath the layers of thick white makeup.

“If you’d do me the honor,”

“Um… you do know I’m a man, right? I don’t want to… get your hopes up if you’re, you know,” I said, waving my hands casually. It was not something you talked about, not in this day and age. Sure people were beginning to change their minds on sexuality, but gay was definitely not yet okay.

The woman’s expression dimmed some, and I felt my heart break– _why_ couldn’t I be the woman she wanted me to be? Why did the kami have to curse me?

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Genma.”

“No, no… your name.” She fixed me with a harder expression, and I gulped quietly. _My name?_ It was then I had a sudden realization.

“Sadako,” I finally managed to stammer out. The first time in many years I heard that name spoken aloud in association with myself. It felt… good.

“Sadako-san,” the woman bowed her head. “I would be honored if you would go out with me.”

“If I would,” I began, a smile returning to my face. “I ask the name of my suitor.”

“Emiko,” She said, grinning ear to ear.

“Well then, Emiko-sama,” I said, slipping back into my maidenly acting role as simple as a glove, “Shall I freshen up? How unfortunate it is, that I do not have the right attire to wear for you.”

Emiko grinned and patted herself. “Fortunately, Sadako-chan,” She said, “I am a large girl, so perhaps I may be of service. My apartment isn’t far from here, are you allowed to leave in your fineries?”

“Ah yes, just as long as I’m performing this show.”

“Wonderful,” Emiko said, offering her arm to me.

“How forward,” I purred, slipping my arm into hers.

As we left, I passed by Soun and Mariko. With a smile to them, I bowed my head and winked. Soun gave me a bright grin and a thumbs up.

It felt nice to let go, just for one night. To forget the nightmares of my life, to pretend the world didn’t hate me, or want me dead. To just… exist, in grasps of passion.

And, for once, just be Sadako.

Just like I was meant to be.

So it goes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not copyedited/beta'd, and was simply posted upon completion. I don't typically have the sweet inklesspen copyedit my one-shots b/c they're just exercises. This is canonical to ADD, but doesn't really fit into the narrative proper as flashbacks are... jarring, to be sure. Yes, she goes by "Sadako" here, but "Yumiko" in the story. Remember that these scenes are nearly twenty years apart. A lot of things change. For good, or for bad.


End file.
